The Worst Thing About Writing Isn't Writers Block Its Not Knowing How Or Where To Stop. Like How Am I

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

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Alphabet Soup - U

U is for uh-oh, oops, and oh no. Even if it isn't Wally's fault, having become more and more unhinged as things between you and him unfold into something so perfect and permanent, Wally thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

He's caught with his head buried between your thighs, his chin and mouth shiny with your juices. He licks his lips, unbothered, raises a brow at Janet as she stands there wearing the ugliest scowl Wally has ever seen on her face, her body vibrating with unfettered rage. He sits back, naked and on display, lazily stroking his cock with pride in his eyes.

"Get out," He tells her calmly, and she closes door behind her because what the fuck else is she going to do? Watch? Wally slants his head toward you, smirking, crawling up your body to kiss you with unbridled passion, grinding his cock between your wet folds to coax you back into the right headspace. "Don't worry, baby," He coos, "She's gone." Since you can't see from under the blindfold, your wrists bound to his headboard.

You whimper, clearly unnerved by Janet's intrusion despite not having seen or heard her, the bitch wielding feline grace when it suits her. She isn't supposed to be at Wally's house, in his apartment above his family's garage. Janet was in the throes of organizing prom with the rest of the committee and wasn't due to meet him until tomorrow morning for another rundown of their court dance. Smile, wave, make a dumb speech thanking everyone for their votes. Blah blah blah, Wally doesn't care.

He's been on her shitlist since last week, anyway, so what's another nail in the coffin? He actually feels relieved that Janet discovered you and him. It gets him hotter, harder, more desperate for you, because now he isn't shackled to late nights and impromptu weekends alone. Wally can have you whenever he fucking wants. Which has steadily turned into always over the course of the year.

And, wow, has it really been that long?

He knows Janet hasn't left, doesn't hear her car pull out of the drive, so he greedily, selfishly, shamelessly eats your cunt like a Michelin Star meal. Tongue probing your pussy as he moans at how good you taste, his eyes rolling back in his head from it, and the whole time you're keening and crying out and begging him not to stop, oh fuck Wally, I'm so close, please please. Don't worry, baby, he loves this probably more than you do.

When you come, shouting his name for Janet to hear what she never had a chance in hell to get from him, Wally fucks you like reckoning. Paints your chest and belly like a Jackson Pollock before he releases your wrists and soothes you with affection. As you doze, he tucks you in, kisses your hair, vows to be back in five minutes, dons a pair of low-slung sweats and a smug grin as he lopes out of the room, down the stairs, and meets Janet outside the door.

"Something I can do for you?" He asks, obviously unruffled which just drives Janet fucking nuts.

She wants an apology.

Wally laughs in her face, "For what? It's not like I'm really cheating on you."

She wants an explanation.

Wally snorts, "I don't owe you shit." He doesn't. Janet was never his girlfriend. She was never anything. A pest at most, an inconvenience at least.

"You don't get to have her." Janet seethes as if she has some kind of say in it.

Again, Wally laughs, shakes his head, tells her where to go as impolitely as he can. "She's already mine," He states, breezy, sucking the fingers he fucked you with to stress the point. Janet has a prima donna meltdown right there on his parents' lawn, stomps her foot and positions herself to slap him. He catches her wrist easily, stares her dead in the eyes, "You jealous, Janet?"

He fondles himself, pushes her arm away and grins, "Is this what you wanted?" Then he glances to his window, slides his gaze back to her, chuckling darkly, "Or is it her?" She doesn't answer, her face flaming, brows knitted, jaw clenched, "Is that why you wanted me to stay away from her? Because you wanted her all to yourself?"

"Shut the fuck up, Clark," Janet growls.

Wally knows it's not true; he's merely enjoying himself. He knows that Janet is actually just jealous of you, not because she wants to be with you but because she wants to be you. It's been obvious since Day One of their stupid arrangement. Everything Janet did was an underhanded plot to shrink you down as small as Janet feels.

"I'll show her the video." Janet threatens, voice low and menacing, full of umbrage. "She'll never look at you again."

In an instant, Wally's in her space, fire in his eyes, "I fucking dare you."

He hasn't exactly planned for this, but he's tired of worrying about it. If you walk away, you walk away—Wally's heart stutters—at least he has enough spank bank material to last decades. A blessing since he doesn't think he could get it up for anyone else ever. Thank Christ he saved every picture and video and voice note you've ever sent him.

"I'll make sure you lose Prom King," Janet sneers and, again, he snorts.

"I don't think I could care less," and, taking stock of himself, Wally finds that to be true. "It's just high school, Janet. Get a fucking hobby."

He hears the stairs creak, your honeyed voice from behind him wondering, "What's going on?" and he turns and saunters toward you without a second thought, bundles you into his arms, reveling at how you drown in his football jersey.

"You should go back inside, baby," He says even as he kisses you, soft, warm; hands groping your ass through the polyester. "Don't want my neighbors getting a peek at what's mine," he pecks the tip of your nose and gives you a humble smile that still feels a bit unnatural on his face.

It's then that Janet does the dumbest thing she could think of. She lunges at you while you're still in Wally's arms. A rapid badger fueled by envy. Wally pivots you to safety, blocks Janet's feeble attempts to get at you with his body. She loses steam pretty quickly when Wally doesn't budge.

Janet drives into the sunset with a promise to rat you out. To your mom first and then your dad. You look confused, "Why should I care?" You ask her retreating back, inviting her to go ahead because you've wanted everything out in the open since you and Wally started fucking that fateful afternoon after Janet's pool party.

Later, between dinner with his parents and Avengers: Infinity War on the projector in his apartment, Wally feels a weight lift off his shoulders. No more Janet. No more sneaking around. No more yearning and missed opportunities and bullshit. Just you. Just him. Together for real.

He combs his fingers through your hair as you lounge, draped along his front between his legs, head on his chest, breathing deep in sleep, and Wally realizes for the first time that, despite being free to do whatever he wants now, he still chooses you.

What the hell have you done to me, baby?

Still, his arms tighten around you and he doesn't let you go until it's time to get ready for school.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Pt.6

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. SH. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022. Broken Fingers. Blood. Emotional Numbness. Hearing Voices. Self Depreciation. Description of a Dead Body. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness.

2.2k words

pt.5

-

You were shaking, not from the cold but from the sheer amount of anger that consumed you. Another bottle, another job lost, another eviction threat. Hell you’ve barely eaten in the past few days because there's not much to eat. He promised, he promised he was gonna do better.

It was late and cold. You didn’t grab a jacket before leaving the house because all you wanted to do was get away. The sound of cars speeding by you as you walked on the sidewalk weren't enough to drown out your own thoughts. It doesn't make sense, how can he say he loves you but hurt you over and over again? That's not love, you couldn’t bring yourself to call it out for what it was. 

Hot streams of angry tears pooled down your face as you walked, almost ran. To where? No one knows, just however far your feet will take you. Hopefully away from that fucked up place you call come. The tremors got worse, almost like your emotions were trying to burst out of and cause chaos for miles. Buildings burning, taking innocent screaming strangers with them so they can feel the same thing you have all your life. Pure boiling hot rage that never goes away. 

For as long as you can remember you’ve always been like this. Random outbursts and fights at school. One time you got in trouble for randomly punching a kid because he wouldn’t shut the fuck up at 8 in the morning. It’s overwhelming, all consuming, back and forth from anger to complete numbness on repeat. 

He didn’t do anything to make it any better. All of the cuts, fist shaped holes in the walls around your house, a god damn suicide attempt, and you’re still not even close to a top priority to him. A fathers supposed to protect, not leave you with more emotional scars than you can count. He doesn’t even see that he’s hurting you. Why aren't you good enough to change for? All you ask is that he at least tries but he can’t even do that. 

Why aren't you enough to try for? Are you just that fucking worthless that your own father wont even fight for you? He’s not worth your tears or your time but you still give it to him every time. It’s your fault, you don’t do enough to help him. He’s suffering and it's your fault. 

You let out a frustrated noise as you stopped walking, turning to the street lamp beside you, you pulled your arm back and balled your fist, pushing your arm forward and allowed your fist to make contact with the rusted metal. It sent a vibrating force through your entire right arm but you didn’t stop, over, and over, and over again you took your anger out on the innocent non suspecting source of light. 

You didn’t stop until your hand was numb, knuckles busted and dripping with blood. Broken sobs escaped you as you allowed your body to sink onto the pavement, back resting against the cold concrete. You probably look crazy to any passerbyers but they can fuck off, this is your story not theirs. 

Your everything felt numb, emotional and physical, it was all numb. It was like reality no longer existed, time warping into nothingness. For that moment it was just you in the world, everything else becoming nothing but shapes and blobs of color. You were alone and it bordered on the edge between being peaceful and being lonely. 

You don’t know how long you laid there for. Somehow it felt like hours but also only a few minutes. When you got up you felt lighter, like all the emotions that were once weighing you down dissolved with every punch. Your hand was shaking and you realized you couldn’t move your fingers. They began to hurt as you tried to bend them. 

“Fuck” Good going, you broke your fucking fingers. How the hell were you going to explain this one? You begin your journey back home, praying that your dad would be asleep by now, not wanting to explain the blood dripping from your knuckles and listen to him complain through slurred words. You’d figure out how to hide the fact that your ring and middle fingers are unusable when you get there. 

(“1 fish, 2 fish, this flashbacks been too long bitch” - My Brother, 2024) 

Emotional numbness is such a weird thing. Going from explosive to nothingness in such a short span of time seems inhuman. If you really think about it, what does human mean? Were all souls walking around in a vessel of flesh. No different from animals, so why split us by species? We all live and die in the end, so what's the point? 

Hell life and death are barely different. You thought it would be different. Movie ghosts really tricked you into believing the afterlife had something to offer, but it’s all the fucking same. You can’t escape yourself in life or death. You’re scared, a word you didn’t use often but it's the only thing that can describe this. You’re no different than the band kids that go in the same damn circles over and over again trying to perfect their performance. A loop, a truly fucking terrifying loop. 

If someone were to ask you in life if you were afraid of death you would have said no, you’re afraid of the effect it will have on the people around you but now you’d just scream and beg for a way out. But on a deeper level you’d say that the familiarity in death was somehow comforting. It sounds weird but it reminds you that you’re still you. Both good and bad, letting that go would slice away the last little bit of sanity you have left. 

The bell had already rang 3 times as kids came in and out of the bathroom but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Instead you allowed yourself time to think, your brain finally getting a chance to speak over all the intruders that tried to silence it. You know it’s only temporary but for now you’re enjoying it. It had been a while since it was just you and your unhazy mind. It’s like talking to an old friend, catching up on all the new life updates… well death updates. 

The kids whispered about you, well what they found of you. Officially dead, officially becoming a whisper in the halls. You thought it would hurt more, but it was kinda funny. No one paid attention to you in life but now that you’re gone all of a sudden you’re the talk of the school, such bullshit. 

It wasn’t until Rhonda walked in, a sucker in her mouth as always that you finally pulled yourself out of the back of your own mind. Where the hell does she get those things? 

“Hey pill popper.” She spouted that nickname with the same unimpressed look as always. You hated to admit it but you found it kinda funny. Pill popper, creative. 

“Hey Wednesday.” Not your best work but it was fitting for her. 

“Why are you on the floor?” You could tell she doesn't really care. Just wanting to get this conversation over with. 

“It’s comfy.” It’s not, the coldness of the hard floor was already making you sore but you know it won’t last. Your body will reset itself as soon as you stand up.

“Gross.” You let out a small chuckle. One thing you like about Rhonda is her bluntness. She doesn't sugar coat shit. She told you a lot about death when you first got here, though you were still in denial about it all she made it make more sense. “Charley told me to come get you.” Her face never changed, dead inside and out. 

“Group?” You knew you’d have to go eventually. The idea of sitting in a circle reinforces the fact that life and death are the same. You would have ended up in the same situation regardless. 

“Yup.” She put the lolly pop back in her mouth before walking away without another word. 

Great, group time. That also means seeing Wally again. He probably thinks you’re a complete weirdo. Oh well, you can't avoid him forever so might as well get it over with. It’s odd, you had a complete melt down earlier about what he thought of you and now you couldn’t care less. Emotions, what an odd thing. 

You pushed yourself off the ground, the soreness that was there seconds ago fading away in an instant. The walk to the gym was short, the halls being crowded but manageable. The familiar sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor filled your eras, only this time it was several pairs. The same group of boys, playing the same game, in the same gym, where the same ghost class is held. This was starting to feel like the real loop. 

Wally was already sitting in his usual spot when he noticed you, waiving with a smile. What's with this guy? His friendly demeanor seems nice but something about it makes you feel unnerved. You don’t deserve his kindness. 

As you sit down in your chair, right beside Wally, Mr.Martin offers you a kind greeting.

“Ah, hey.” Your name rolled off his tongue in a gentle bright manner, happy to see you. “So glad to see you.” You didn’t respond, just gave him an awkward tight lipped smile. You didn’t pay attention to what was going on around you, just stared at your hands, picking at the skin that covers them. The old scars we faded, some bigger than the others. You used to pick at them until they’d bleed. The beautiful crimson reminding you that as much as you think you’ve changed you haven't. At the end of the day you still hurt yourself unconsciously. 

You felt a hand creep over to yours, pulling them apart so your nails couldn’t cause anymore damage. You didn’t have to look up to know who they belong to. Instead you kept your gaze down and slipped your hands into your pocket and watched the boy's hand slip away from you. 

You felt stupid for enjoying the warmth he provided, even though it was only for a second it felt nice. It’s something you don’t know if you’re ever going to get again, the warmth of someone else. Like cuddling during movie nights with the one girl who had stuck beside you through it all, had held you when you’d cry, had pulled your hair back when you got to drunk and needed to hug a strangers toilet bowl, had been there with your dad to pick you up from rehab, had mapped out tattoos to cover your scars. You’ll never get that warmth again.

You heard Mr.Martin say your name, and judging by his voice it wasn't the first time he said it before you finally noticed. You looked up at him, you didn’t bother hiding the look on your face. Probably confused, upset, scared, every emotion you could name. “Huh?”

“I asked how you’re feeling” His face was warm as ever, somehow making you feel out of place in the conversion. 

“Fine, perfectly fine.” You’re far from it and you know he can tell. Everyone can and you can’t be bothered to hide it. You couldn’t feel emotions but they were still there, unconnected, just floating around, confused, not knowing where to go. 

The look on his face didn’t change but you can tell he doesn’t believe you. “You can talk to us, we’ve all been in your position before.” That stupid line, Wally had said something similar but it's not true. They’ve died but they don’t understand. Being dead isn’t the issue, being you is.

“I’ve never been in that position.” Rhonda spoke up, examining her lollipop like it's the most interesting thing in the world. “We all saw her body, disgusting.” Okay maybe Rhonda was a little too honest sometimes. 

“Rhonda” Mr.Martin shot her a warning look.

“Definitely not my best look.” Somehow even after they found your body school went on. Is that normal? Have so many kids died here that they don’t even bother to shut it down for even a day? Everyone’s acting normal, but the whispers of the kids in the bathroom you spent hours in stuck with you. 

Rhonda put her sucker back in her mouth, arms crossed over her chest as always. Mr.Martin decided to continue group without any more questions about you, understanding that you’re not ready for the whole death talk. He was saying something about group activities but you tuned it out, had your body really looked that bad? The last time you saw it, it was fresh, but the smell that it conducted in the locker room lingered. You couldn't bring yourself to look at it earlier but now you’re beginning to regret that decision. That was your last chance to see that part of you that you walked through life in. Now it's gone forever, never coming back so you can say goodbye. 

It stung, not ever being able to actually say goodbye. All you could do was hope and pray that Mags would be at school eventually. She had missed the last few days, probably making some bullshit excuse to her mom about why she couldn’t come to school. Part of you hopes she never shows up, the thought of seeing her but not being able to touch her makes you want to scream. Her warmth, something you’ll never be able to feel again. 

A silent tear rolled down your face that you quickly wiped away. Emotions are such a weird thing, they switch on and off without warning, leaving you stranded with a shit ton of baggage you don’t want.

-

I don't have a tag list but @gabbyygoo asked to be tagged in the next post so here you go love. Hope you enjoy it :)

pt.7

Dawn: Always check yourself for unnecessary negativity and bitterness

Rhonda: Unnecessary negativity ✓ bitterness ✓

Gonna come back to this tomorrow cus I'm really drunk

October Moon

summary: in the aftermath of the theater of terrors, there'd been a single, short moment of silence when everyone had been too stunned to speak. too frightened confused sick horrified to say a word. and then everything had descended into chaos.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

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OCTOBER MOON prologue

There was a single, short moment of silence before the commotion began. A moment of confusion and sick loss that weaved its way between and through everyone until it thinned into a desperate need to understand what they'd all just been through.

"He was so alone," Charley whimpered, pitiful, arms curled around his middle as he tried to forget the little boy who'd needed someone to stay with him so badly, "I didn't want to leave him..."

Rhonda scowled, "How could she not know!?" Spitting her anger through gritted teeth, gesturing widely as if the air was too close and she had to push it away.

Wally was frantic, hands moving as fast as his mouth, "I saw Maddie's dad—"

"What?" Weakly, tortured, "Where? Why did you get to see him and I didn't?" And Maddie began to tremble because she'd always known her father had died but she and her mother had never been given more than a feeble, 'it was an accident'. An accident that had rendered her father unrecognizable and dead. An accident that had driven her mother to the bottom of too many bottles and away from her daughter. An accident Maddie had never believed because she'd known, she'd KNOWN, it was a lie. But she hadn't visited him, she'd been stuck in a hospital room with a twelve-year-old girl and her great aunt, forced to watch as Then Deputy Baxter held his hat to his chest and declared a little boy gone.

It wasn't fair and Wally held her even as he explained, "Janet was there," to Charley and Rhonda who stared at him in disbelief.

They all talked over each other, "What was she doing there?" - "Do you think Mr. Martin knows?" - "Maybe that's why he helped her move on; he knew she was dangerous!" - "He can't know, if he did, he wouldn't have let her near us."

Meanwhile, Ajay was urgently scouring the rows, under every seat, down every aisle, calling out Mina's name before disappearing at a run to the back of the stage, into the rafters, "Mina, Mina, Mina!" Over and over, heart in his throat, where was she, she never left the theater, where was she!?

But all of that faded into the background when you heard a weak, strained voice ask, "Why didn't you tell me?"

On your knees on the stage, staring blankly at the spot the farmhouse door had been, you tried to make your mouth work. Slowly, you panned to Xavier who stepped toward you, his face pained, his brow creased and eyes filled with so much sorrow it felt like a kick to the heart.

Meekly in return, you confessed, "I didn't remember," as if that solved the problem. A band-aid over a bullet wound, as true as it was. You'd been tested several times at your mother's stubborn hand for dissociative amnesia, unable to reconcile how you'd remembered Aiden's. A lethal fall down the farmhouse stairs. A farmhouse in town, abandoned, on your way home from the elementary school. You'd gone in to escape the rain and he'd wandered off on his own. Had hit his head so hard on the stone wall, he'd bled out at the bottom of the stairs. You'd watched his spirit rise and then vanish. It was in your statement to Xavier's father. It was how you'd remembered it, in vague flashes, for the six years it'd been since it'd happened.

"I didn't......it wasn't like that." You repeated, forcing the words out around the lump in your throat. "I didn't remember..."

Xavier collapsed to his knees in front of you, devastated, "How? How could you not remember that? How could you not tell me!?" It wasn't harsh or mean or loud though part of you wished it was. It was a quiet expression of betrayal. And then, a breathy whisper, "He was my brother, too."

Maybe not biologically, but emotionally, spiritually, it was true. Xavier had held Aiden as a baby; had held Aiden's hand on his first day of kindergarten; had taught him big words to impress his teachers, and how to kick a ball into the net, and how to skateboard like a big boy, and how to—you shook, eyes welling with tears as Xavier continued to look at you like you'd just shattered his whole world.

"Xavier," Maddie said softly, her own voice shaky with grief, "It's not her fault."

Xavier exhaled deeply as he turned his head to Maddie, pressed his lips together, suddenly appearing anxious beneath the pain, "When did you get back?"

Maddie shot you a helpless look and you took the responsibility from her, saying in a wet tone, "She didn't, Zav."

Xavier was confused for a long minute, staring at Maddie as if he could piece her together like a puzzle.

He blinked several times, looked—really looked—at the students he didn't recognize, noticing their outdated apparel, their pale complexions, their...not-really-thereness. All at once, it struck him, a knife-twisting epiphany while your voice in his mind, carefree and purposefully teasing, told him and Mathilda about your hot football player ghost. He gazed at Wally Clark, the number 57 on the sleeve of his varsity jacket, and then swallowed.

Xavier's eyes closed almost as soon as his gaze returned to rest on you; his lips pressed together so you wouldn't see how the bottom one wobbled. His shoulders tensed, and, when he opened his eyes again, he couldn't stomach to look at you. In that moment, he understood like common sense exactly where he stood with you and it hurt.

"Zav," You whimpered, reaching for him, but he shifted away, shaking his head. "Zav, please," You attempted, shuffling forward on your knees. He stood, stumbled back a step and then grabbed his head, breathing heavy.

"No." He said, then louder, "No, no way." You clambered to your feet as he jumped off the stage. "It's too much," He said and you could tell he was fighting tears, "I can't do this." He marched to the top of the center aisle as you called after him, pausing only for a second to glance back at you over his shoulder, his expression utterly destroyed, and then he opened the door and left.

You made to run after him, but Wally grabbed you, pulled you to his chest. "Let him go, baby," he said, calm and soft, and when you struggled, wailing, folding forward, and falling to the ground, he went with you and cradled you in his arms. Let you cry out everything that had happened; with Aiden, with the farmhouse cellar, with the cult, and Amelia and Anabelle. All of it. Wally held you through it, shushing you, holding your head to his chest, rocking you, kissing your hair between variations of, "I've got you, baby, I'm right here."

As you began to recover, thick sniffs and small whimpers, you burrowed into the safety and comfort of Wally's arms, not wanting the others to see you like that. Unfortunately, you didn't have a choice. Your phone vibrated in the back pocket of your skirt. Wally shamelessly retrieved it, handing it off to Maddie without a word.

"Simon's here." She said, as somber and morose as the rest of them.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Quinn Wu smiled as they greeted the next customer at the box office. It was Friday. They'd planned on checking out Horror Con with their friends. On finally letting loose and enjoying a weekend like a regular teenager. That was until their mom had stumbled in drunk right as they were about to leave, their mom clearly unable to work her shift at Jitterbug Theater. It wasn't busy. They could've called their mom in sick and the other staff could've easily made do.

But their family was hard up for money and the rent was overdue by several days, the threat of eviction already made clear like blood painted on the doorframe. So, there they were, giving their best customer service smile to the next in line.

The woman was old but pretty, her hair tucked under a hat that reminded Quinn of something one would see in the 20s. She wore large sunglasses accessorized with chunky rhinestones that glittered in the fluorescent light. Her cashmere sweater was a simple black, her mink shawl a bright Barbie pink. She hobbled in tall, spiky heels toward the counter, her weight balanced on a cane that matched her sunglasses.

She was fabulous, Quinn thought, certainly the most interesting person they'd ever seen. The woman joked with Quinn as she waited for her tickets to print.

And then...then the world seemed to go quiet. The woman leaned in, her hand grabbing Quinn's when they offered her the tickets. With a grey-toothed grin, she said, "I'm so sorry your mother doesn't love you enough to let you have your own life," truly sympathetic. She lowered her sunglasses on her nose, sparkling blue eyes gazing deep into Quinn's.

Strangely, Quinn wasn't alarmed. Or offended. Or disturbed. They were resigned. As if the woman's words expressed a universal truth they couldn't escape. Quinn nodded, their eyes casting to the countertop.

The woman leaned in further and assured, "Don't worry, pet, I can make it all better."

Quinn's eyes flashed up to hers, hopeful. "Really?"

The woman nodded, "Just be sure to go to school on time and don't skip any classes. Be a good student," the woman instructed, very serious, "and I'll make sure you get everything you want." Her smile remained sweet while her eyes turned sharp. "I promise. But do you?"

Quinn pondered the question, tilting their head and staring at the woman in front of them who could give them everything they wanted. After a few silent seconds, the beat of their heart getting louder in their ears, they answered:

"I promise."

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OCTOBER SUN PT.27 - PART ONE

note: for those who don't know, Quinn is a character who will be making her/their debut in S2. i'm using they/them pronouns to respect the actor as i don't know anything about Quinn yet. but anyway...*cracks knuckles* let the challenge BEGIN. i swear to all that i am that i WILL finish this nutjob of a fic before next Thursday if it's the last thing that i do ☠️✍️🔥🚒

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS.

This is my comfort cus some bitch decided to spoil the end of the umbrella academy this came in clutch at the perfect time

October Sun

summary: you'd never told Xavier. not because he hadn't been a good friend, but because you'd kept a secret no one but you had known. only then, in the eye of the storm, you'd been forced to tell him: i can't remember.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

sorry for the delay, loves, work was overwhelming (it's busy season) and i'm sick and it was a lot 😩⚰️ ilyg 🫶

bon reading, frens

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OCTOBER SUN pt.25

In 1987, during the period Wally had still been reluctant to join the Afterlife Support Group, Mr. Martin had asked Bernie to ask Wally to help Mina Volkov transition from life to death. You're from the same decade—Mr. Martin's words from Bernie's mouth—she probably remembers you. Although, looking back, Wally wondered if it hadn't been a strategic play to get Wally to see the benefits of togetherness.

For the first time since his death, Wally had felt useful, but it'd backfired almost immediately and had sent him into a tailspin of doubt and frustration that'd lasted another five or so years. Mina had simply yelled at Wally about a safety course and how she hadn't been responsible for who got what part, barking at Wally until he'd descended from the rafters with his tail between his legs. He'd tried a few more times after their first encounter to cajole Mina out of her roost, and he'd been chased away every time.

So, color him surprised when Mina quietly accepted the bouquet Maddie handed her, tempered, receptive, and willing to offer what she knew by lifting and dropping the stage's trapdoor.

"How did she do that?" Wally asked of Maddie, who'd done in a minute what he'd tried to do over the span of years.

"Maybe it has something to do with what your girlfriend mentioned," Rhonda said in long, bored strokes, "Maddie might have ghost powers that she can use to tame even the most stubborn dead stagehands."

Wally warmed at Rhonda's use of the word 'girlfriend', cheeks flushing and heart picking up speed. He hadn't given much thought to titles, but something inside him did somersaults at the idea that you and he were that kind of official.

"Stop that." Rhonda smacked him lightly in the chest with the back of her hand.

Wide-eyed and totally confused, "Stop what?"

"Your face," Charley explained, "It's gone all soft and pining." Then, to himself, "It's actually adorable."

Wally rearranged his expression into something less smitten as he, Rhonda, and Charley stood and followed Maddie through the trapdoor and down into the cellarage.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Time stammered to a stop, the walls closed in; lights dimmed, noise ceased, and all you could see was Xavier. His ice-wild eyes filled with fear and confusion, already positioned on the defensive, more disturbed than you'd ever seen him before.

"Zav?" You croaked as your heart thundered in your chest. "Are you—?"

"No." Xavier snapped, pacing a few steps forward and then back, "Don't. Just. Stop..." He deflated instantly, rubbed his eyes, and raked his fingers through his hair, and then he demanded, "Who was that guy?"

You couldn't deflect; couldn't say no idea what you're talking about, couldn't fake it 'til you made it or wait for him to think up some plausible excuse on his own that you'd glom on to and ride into the sunset. It was Xavier and you'd promised yourself years ago that he'd be the one person in the world you'd never, ever lie to. Dance around the truth for self-preservation? Sure. But outright lie to him? Your instincts screeched and cried against it, fight-flight-frozen in place as you watched his eyes dart around, the flurry of his thoughts practically spilling out of him for you to hear.

The years you'd spent curating an occult personality, touched by the same incandescent, bewitched spirit as every other boho-goth girly with a penchant for Halloween and horror films; the admissions you'd made of having a crush on a ghost at the school; the easy way you talked about what lay beyond the spiritual veil. The many breadcrumbs you'd dropped in the form of red herrings rose like a bloated corpse from the depths of a lake as he viscerally pieced together the truth.

"I know what I saw." He grunted, falling back against the wall and sliding to the floor, head in his hands, wide eyes staring at his feet. "You were making out with some rando and then he just...vanished into thin air." Xavier made a poof-gone burst with his hands, head panning in a crescent to scan the hall for signs of what he'd witnessed.

"Xavier, I..." Didn't know what to say and your inability to explain everything away seemed to strengthen Xavier's resolve.

He sniffed, dropping his arms to hang on his knees, face creased in a pain you didn't know the source of. "I know I can be a shit friend," He began, tone thin as wet paper, but before you could voice a denial, he continued, "I know that everything with Maddie has...has been hard and it's obviously triggered something for you, but..." And his voice scratched, "I thought I was your best friend."

"You are," You insisted, trying so hard to convey how true the sentiment was.

"Yeah? Then why don't you ever talk to me about Aidan?" A blade to the heart. "Why won't you tell me what the fuck actually happened to him? I loved him, too." The blade twisted, sinking deeper. "I know it wasn't an accident, May; I know you saw something; I know you were there." The nickname hurt for more reasons than one, and it took everything in you not to call Xavier out. "Why don't you ever share anything with me? And now you're buddy-buddy with Simon and handsy with a guy you can't. tell. me. wasn't Walker Clark—fucking Number 57 right on his jacket, DEAD high school legend." Xavier paused his tirade to note, "Jesus Christ, I sound fucking crazy," knocking his head against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut.

Your surprise bubbled out of you before you could reel it back in, "How do you even know any of that?"

Xavier slumped in defeat, shook his head, and confessed, "You always talked about him. How your mom fangirled after him worse than a K-pop stan." He snorted, "In sophomore year, when Eli asked you out? You wouldn't stop joking about how you thought a stupid ghost was more your type." He looked up at you then, gaze misty, brows pinched in anguish. "I wanted to see what the hype was about...so I checked out the '84 yearbook in the library. There's a whole spread dedicated to his memory, did you know that?"

You did. You'd been shown a printout of it along with the rest of Wally's dossier. "Yeah."

"I mean, I thought you'd just looked it up, too." Xavier laughed without humor, "Thought you were just bullshitting for the sake of some manic pixie dream girl vibe you wanted to try out because being a teenager's fucking stupid like that, but..." Again, his gaze met yours, held it briefly as he stared into your soul, and then skirted away, up and down the hallway before returning to fixate on the theater door. "Where'd he go, May?"

"Please stop calling me that." You said, hoarse, strangled, breath shortening as your lungs struggled to expand.

Xavier stood and strode forward until you and he were nose to nose, "Who was that?" He pressed, "Who just had their hands all over you and then disappeared just like that." The last word emphasized with a loud snap of his fingers.

"Zav, please, just hold on—"

He abruptly whirled around, stormed toward the theater door, and violently threw it open. You scurried after him, pleading with him to listen as he charged down the center aisle toward the stage, calling out for whoever you were to show himself as if to prove Xavier wasn't losing his mind. And he wasn't, you knew that, but how were you supposed to tell him without doing more damage than had already been done when you'd revealed yourself to Rhonda and Charley?

"Xavier, wait!" You yelled, panicked, divulging the only thing you thought might redirect his manic assault around the theater. "I didn't tell you about Aiden because I can't remember!"

Xavier stopped his search, still as an eerie pond in winter, and slowly turned to face you. "What?"

"I can't..." Fuck. You scraped your fingers over your scalp then shot your arms wide, "I can't remember." You revealed, voice cracking, "It comes back in bits and pieces that don't make...they don't make sense without the context and you're right, okay? I was there, but I can't remember. Not everything." The door, the farmhouse, blood, blood everywhere, a crowbar, and Aiden screaming for you, his Sissy May because your mother always called you her May child—her little baby girl a symbol of new hope and abundance that had nothing to do with Beltane or spring blessings or the month of May itself.

"What do you mean you 'can't remember'?" Xavier questioned, face scrunched up as if that was somehow crazier than the fact that he'd seen you and a literal ghost make out.

Tears streamed down your face, vision blurry, voice pitched and broken as the last thread of control you had on the situation split. "I don't know." Xavier shook his head in disbelief, compelling you to blurt out whatever you could to keep him calm, "I really don't know. Ms. Chung kept saying my brain was 'repressing the trauma' but I wanted to remember. We tried everything: Art therapy, guided imagery, fucking hypnosis, Xavier, and nothing worked. I can't...I can't remember anything after I picked Aiden up from school."

Panels of that drizzly afternoon read like a heavily redacted picture document. The short walk in the rain from the elementary schoolyard to the end of the block. The friendly smile on a face you knew you'd recognized but that now had a thick, black bar over the nose and eyes. The apple juice. The farmhouse cellar. The crowbar. The door. And then everything sped up from images to a movie reel when then-Deputy-Baxter had to wrestle you to the ground at the side of the dirt road while EMTs tried to resuscitate Aiden.

"I didn't tell you because there wasn't anything in here," You aggressively jammed your fingers into the side of your head as if attempting to unblock the memories, "to tell you. And it's fucked up and I'm sorry I didn't let you in, but I didn't know how. Half the time I didn't believe anything even happened because my fucking brain kept skipping over it."

Except you could remember one crucial detail: "Trust me, it takes four minutes before a person goes from attached to their earthen vessel to haunting the science lab." However, despite the awareness you possessed of having witnessed Aiden's death, your brain refused to evoke the visual memory.

You trembled, tortured by the fact that you hadn't been able to save your little brother, and you had no idea if you'd even tried. Ajay appeared at your side, his hand on your shoulder while his narrowed eyes were pinned on Xavier. As he prepared to say something, the trapdoor at the middle of the stage banged open and Wally climbed out, looking furious and ready for war.

💀___________________________

PART TWENTY-FOUR

note: Waiting for Godot is so stripped down that I disliked it immensely. also, please remember that time moves differently between the worlds of the living and the dead. so the 2 seconds it takes Xavier to lose his shit is, like, enough minutes in the metaphysical world for our ghost friends to find the forged receipt. like Narnia...it's been a thousand years O.o (iykyk)

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: i'm afraid i am no longer updating or using the taglist. moving forward, if you'd like to keep up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS. that thing took me to Hell and back, and we're no longer on speaking terms...😒

i guess I really am the spice for you babes

Random freaky thoughts 🤔

Wally Clark x Afab! Reader (it's kinda not an x reader but also is at the same time. I don't know how to explain it)

Warnings: Oral (both giving and receiving) thigh riding. Me rambling for no reason. I think that's it. This is just smut so yeah. You've been warned.

Enjoy my descent into madness :)

All I can't think about is this man's tongue 😩 like he'd be so naturally skilled with it. His hands pushing your thighs down to keep them open for him while his tongue laps at your clit. Not stopping until you're quite literally dripping down his chin.

Maybe I just have issues but thigh riding anyone???👀 His thighs just look so ridable. Please tell me I'm not alone in this 😭 He'd flex them to apply just the right amount of pressure to tease you. Not giving you enough to get you to that perfect place of ecstasy. Constantly keeping you on the edge until he's ready to take you. (I'm calling my therapist)

What MarV Allen say??? IMMA TAKE HER TO POUND TOWN, GOING ROUND AFTER ROUND!!! Yeah he lives by that even though he's probably never heard the song. I've said it once and I'll say it again RESETS!!! Aka infinite stamina. He can go forever if you let him.

This is just a random thought but he would laugh his ass off if you printed out 'tickets to pound town' Don't get me wrong he wouldn't pass up the opportunity but he would find it funny.

Give this man head I promise you won't be disappointed. He'd worship you, holding your hair back while he admires your face. Gently pushing your head down while he tells you how beautiful you are.

(okay I'm done. This is probably shitty cus I wrote it during a lecture. I'm running on 2 hours of sleep and an ice coffee that I only drank half of cus I put way to much almond milk in it. Sorry I'm rambling bye 👋)

Okay, I’m sorry if this is lengthy, but I was reading your period comfort head cannons for Wally (literal perfect timing since I just started😭)

I was wondering if you could write(and now hear me out) period sex with Alive!Wally Clark and Alive!Reader. Like readers hormones literally just raging and she’s super horny, Wally notices and is like hey you wanna? And readers like I’m on my period, and Wally’s just like “So”?

Long story short they freak it and Wally realizes how much more sensitive reader is, and how much faster she cums and just overstimulates the hell out of her.

Also sorry again this is so lengthy. I am horrendously down bad for this man😭😭 I need to be put down💀 Thank you for coming to my ted talk🩷(I love your page and all your writing)

Listen, listen, LISTEN I know it's short and took WAY to long but I tried. Its also written in headcannon style because I tried writing it normally but just couldn't get into the flow of it so I'm sorry but either way I hope you enjoy it nony.

Alive!Wally Clark x Alive!Afab!Reader

Warnings: Periods Sex, Blood, Oversimulation, Slight Dacryphilia, Wally being sickeningly sweet.

⚠ Smut below the cut ⚠

Wally would be the one to bring it up to you. Like I said before he didn’t know a lot about periods so when you first started talking to him about that stuff he took it upon himself to do research. One of the very interesting things he read about was ways to ease period cramps, one in particular caught his eyes, orgasms. 

He knew he’d have to be the one to suggest so the next time you were on your period he brought it up. He said it so casually, like it was just common scene. When you gave him an odd look and reminded him that you’re on your period he just kind laughed and said “That's like the whole point.” 

He’d put a towel down, tell you to relax, that there's nothing to be nervous about. Rubbing slow circles into your skin while he undresses you like a delicate gift made for his eyes only. 

Long slender fingers sliding inside you, crimson slowly coating them. He’d keep his free hand on your abdomen, massaging it with his thumb, while his head rests on your thigh, admiring the mess he's creating. He’d make you cum on his fingers first, watching your body tense up before relaxing in the afterglow of complete bliss. 

Then he’d get to the real show, slow gentle thrusts while he memorises every little face you make. Fingers moving in circles around your overly sensitive clit. Watching you cum over and over again to the point that tears are falling from your eyes. 

Gentle kisses while he tells you how beautiful you are. Soft whispers while he worships your body, absolutely adoring your oversensitivity. Wally always knew he loved pleasuring you but something about the way you face twisted in absolute bliss drove him insane. Trust and believe this might of been the first time he fucked you on your period but its not gonna be the last.

⚠️ School Spirits season finale spoilers ⚠️

Okay so like what the fuck? How they just gonna leave us on that not???

I don't think Simon got his body snatched... At least I hope not. Maybe he just like found a cheat code or sum (I'm grasping at straws here.) It doesn't make much sense regardless like how the fuck he get in there? The other ghosts had to get through all the scars just to get to Mr.Martins so how did Simon just magically pop in there?

Also Wally, I don't know how to feel. I really want him to have his happy ending and move on knowing he's loved but also I feel like he didn't go through the door. This is me mainly wanting to see more of him in season 3. If it drops and he's nowhere to be found imma actually die.

Can we talk about how he punched Mr.Manphrado though. Like damn daddy (kill me) And the way he turned to Rhonda and asked if she's okay 😩 Such a sweetie.

Mr.Andersons speech made me cry. He cares so much about being a teacher and I know it's not my sweet boy Simons fault but like- come on man they need to give that man his job back. Justice for Mr.Anderson 😤

Xavier??? He can see Maddies dad which means there's a huge chance Maddies gonna be able to see all the ghosts when she goes back to school. Also why the fuck are we just finding out Xavier can still see ghosts? He couldn't when he woke up the next day in the hospital so why now? This is some freaky shit.

The way i just wanted to body slam Maddie back into her body (with love) is actually killing me. Like girl if you dont- I get it she didn't want to leave her friends but seeing Simone panick cus Maddie's body was cold actually broke my heart.

Wally silently crying in the back while Maddie said goodbye to Rhonda and Charley is actually the most deviating thing I've ever seen. We didn't even get a kiss or an I love you, like just one hug and that was it??? Not good enough.

I've said this from the beginning, I've never been a big Maddie and Wally shipper but that was mostly because there wasn't enough tension between them in the first season now I understand the hype. I do wish there was more of a buildup starting in season 1 because it just felt one sided for a while but now it look like Maddie really likes him. (I'm still team Maddie and Simon for life)

I just can't cope knowing we're probably gonna have to wait another 2 years for a new season 😔 I feel empty, like actually. This is the supernatural finale all over again... Okay maybe not as bad cus at some point we're gonna get more but still I'm hurt.

Ashes To Ashes, Dust To Dust

I don't burn bridges, I build them. Putting down every piece of wood, every screw going in its correct place. Admiring the beauty I built with my own two hands then walking away to come back at a later date. But I have a bad memory so the bridge is soon forgotten, until it begins to wither and decay. People attempt to pass over it only to get stuck and eventually fall into the water underneath. I opened the news to see my precious bridge I bilt so carefully caused countless deaths because I couldn't take care of it. I finally come back to the bridge but it's not what I remember. The pretty mahogany wood that used to be spotless is now covered in blood and tears from its unsuspecting victims. Screws that used to hold it together now sticking up popping the tires of everyone who dares to try to pass.  I step on the bridge only for it to crack and me to fall through, the remains of the bridge falling on top of me and crushing me. I don't burn bridges, I build them and eventually I let them take me with them.

-C